When did Seattle become a ghetto?

Thursday, 19 March 2009

Last night I stopped a couple of guys from breaking into the wife’s car. Today on the playground a couple of teens were shouting nigger-this, nigger-that near the 1–5 year-olds while a woman yelled at a 3 year-old for barfing. There’s a stomach bug going around the kids in town. They’re all barfing. The woman went back to yelling at a group of little kids who weren’t holding on the merry-go-round tightly enough to stop from flying off when she spun it as fast as she could. Every block in Belltown has fresh dog shit on the sidewalk between the gum, cigarette butts, and impromptu human urinals. People downtown will expectorate so close to your feet they spray your pants. The average high school student down the street borders on sub-human. When a 6 year-old boy hit my little girl at the play place up the street in Lake City she said, “You shouldn’t hit me. We should be friends.” He spit in her face. Right in front of me. It took everything I had to walk over to his mother to tell her instead of pulling his arm out of its socket throwing him across the room to her feet. She didn’t apologize or say a word of acknowledgement. I knew kids like that and that boy will kill a girlfriend or step-child by the time he’s 25.

As mentioned, last night I stopped a couple of guys from breaking into my wife’s car. I had my shepherd, I had my .40 Hi-Power. I didn’t shoot anybody or let my stranger-hating dog go get her teeth into forearm.

This human life. To live among you.

The photograph is from this afternoon. Great blue heron prints in the creekside found following the first butterfly of the year across the yard. This class of experience may be the only reason I’m what I am and not what your world pushes men like me to achieve. You should thank your bleeding deities that here too you fail. You ought to consider trying a bit less hard for awhile. I will only have children for so many years.

Great Blue Heron prints on Thornton Creek.

…Wouldn’t you know it. This morning at the filthy bus stop where trash was everywhere but the trash bucket a man my age picked it all up while we were waiting. Like any good argument, though, I still want to be mad for a little longer.

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